


Five Fucks

by hart



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Drunkenness, If You Squint - Freeform, Mentions of Eating Disorder, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn, Sex, hint at noncon, really hard, sexy sex, slutjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hart/pseuds/hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone who generally had as much interest in sex as a piece of furniture, Enjolras was apparently pretty damn good at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Fucks

**Author's Note:**

> For darrenchris on tumblr. Everything about this is Gabi's fault. Will probably find typos later.

i. Courfeyrac

For someone who generally had as much interest in sex as a piece of furniture, Enjolras was apparently pretty damn good at it.

Courfeyrac thought this as he lit a cigarette between trembling fingers, chest rising and falling quick and heavy; sweaty and sticky, heat radiating between them and sheets tangled over their legs. Enjolras’ eyes were closed, sun streaming through the blinds in lines across his face.  He didn’t talk after sex. Courfeyrac didn’t have the breath to.

Smoke filled his lungs and his exhale shuddered.

ii. Jehan

Enjolras fucked to relieve tension. Enjolras fucked when finals were too much, when his reading list was too long, when his classes were too hard, when the pressure to be the best at everything got to him (like it did; like it does to everyone; Enjolras is only damn _human_ ). 

Jehan fucked to relieve tension. Jehan fucked when the numbers running through his head addled his brain, when his throat hurt from his own fingers, when he was dizzy and when he liked feeling dizzy, when he couldn’t let the gnawing sensation in his stomach go.

Jehan was a frenzy in bed; thin limbs and prominent bones, climbing on top of Enjolras, all over him, kisses at his neck and hot breath on his collarbone, panting and clawing, rough and fast.

He bites down on the curve of Enjolras’ shoulder and the taste of salt on his skin is all he’s tasted in days.

iii. Grantaire

Grantaire is different. Grantaire is only half drunk and rocks into Enjolras slowly, every time making Enjolras’ breath rush out of him as heat shocks in. There’s a tension between them and Enjolras thinks perhaps it might be uncomfortable if he wasn’t already breathless beneath him.

Grantaire fucks him with precise movement, gentle and hot. Once he’s come inside him he takes Enjolras into his mouth and swallows him down until Enjolras is bruising his own palm with his fingernails, biting his lip to stop himself from screaming.

Grantaire kisses up the length of his body as he comes down, tracing the few freckles Enjolras has with his lips. It’s tender and quiet and tense.

Not once do they look each other in the eye.

iv. Joly, Bossuet

“’Chetta’s in- _fuck_ \- London, then?” Enjolras gasps as Joly bites at his throat and Bossuet grinds _just so_ against him. 

“Mhm,” Joly mumbles against his neck, hands roaming across Bossuet’s chest. Bossuet arches into Joly’s touch, hips sliding forward against Enjolras and making him groan.

“For three days,” Bossuet breathes.

Enjolras closes his eyes for a moment before, “She’s okay with- _ah_ \- she’s okay with this?”

Bossuet kisses him deep and hard, tongues sliding together and Joly begins to tug at the hem of Enjolras’ boxers.

“Mhm,” he repeats, this time against his hip.

v. Eponine

“And he just said how she’s this perfect- this perrrrfect thing, y’know? Y’know?” Eponine slurs, unbuttoning her shirt. Enjolras just nods and kicks off his shoes, trying not to trip over them on his way to the bed.

“And how he thanked me- _thanked me_ ,” Eponine emphasises, flopping down next to him, “for helping him find her. It’s not like I asked for her to turn up at my at my at work, is it?”

“Not at all,” Enjolras whispers, pressing his lips to her neck. She presses her body up against his and pulls his t-shirt over his head, splaying her hands across his chest once it’s bare.

“God, Enjolras, is this why you’re never drunk?”

Enjolras laughs. “What?”

“I mean,” Eponine grins at him and it’s manic. “You sleep with like- _everyone_. Like how many, how many people have you fucked? How many- _ooh_ ,” her eyes light up like she’s thought of a far more interesting thought track. “How many people have fucked _you_?”

Enjolras pulls back and his eyes dip. His eyelashes are long and Eponine traces them gently with her fingertips.

“A few,” he says.

“Do you not like bragging about your conquests?”

Enjolras laughs again and shrugs. “I’m no Courfeyrac.”

“Aww, Enj,” Eponine whines, peppering his face with kisses and mussing up his hair. “No kiss and tell?”

Enjolras shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he says. After a moment of silence he rolls his shoulders and feels sober all of a sudden. “I’m tired.”

Eponine frowns and nods. “Okay,” she replies softly. “Let’s sleep.”

Half an hour later Enjolras is turned to the wall and he might be shaking but Eponine can’t quite tell and she can’t quite stop thinking. He flinches when she brushes his back.

 


End file.
